


In Sickness and in Health

by Armyofangrymarshmallows



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Even though it doesn’t seem it, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi Chapter, Sickfic, Suspense, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armyofangrymarshmallows/pseuds/Armyofangrymarshmallows
Summary: The Doctor and Clara face a difficult time that could force them apart, will they overcome it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, 
> 
> My first multi chapter fic! Yay! I’m quite happy with how it’s planned to unfold, it should be interesting. And yes, I like writing whump. All mistakes made are my own incompetence. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.

Chapter 1

The Doctor and Clara run into the TARDIS console room giggling and laughing at their latest adventure. Clara watches the Doctor dance around the console flicking levers and pressing buttons to send them home. She sits on one of the chairs nearby and chuckles to herself as the rotors whir, lost in her thoughts. 

The Doctor stops and closes his eyes, something feels off but he can't quite place his finger on it. It's probably nothing, he's ninety nine percent certain. That did seem quite high, okay seventy five percent. No that won't do, that was a drop of twenty four percent. His thoughts are interrupted when he starts scratching at his wrist, it's so itchy and his nails just aren't providing any sort of relief. It's probably something he caught himself on when they were running through the forests. Again, only probably. He manages to scratch at it until it’s bleeding but the itch is still there. Clara turns to the sound of persistent scratching and eyes him suspiciously. 

“Doctor, what are you doing?” She asks getting up of the delightfully comfy chair to inspect him. 

“It's nothing,” he swiftly replies hiding his wrist behind his back, stepping away from Clara and her piercing gaze. 

“Liar, arm now,” she commands in that bossy tone that he hates but loves at the same time. Reluctantly he hands over his itchy arm to her and watches as she pushes his sleeve up. There are long scratches in his spake skin that are leaving droplets of blood on his beloved coat. “What the hell have you done?” 

“It's just an itch, gone now. It's nothing,” he says quickly scratching at the raw skin feeling it sting with every stroke of his nails. Clara stops him and starts lecturing him about why he shouldn't scratch when the Doctor starts to pale. His already milky complexion turns even paler if that's possible and his head starts throbbing. “Clara…” 

“Don't ‘Clara’ me I haven't finished mister.” 

“Shut up!” He yells more forcefully than intended making the human flinch and step back from him. He runs a large hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I've got a bit of a headache and you lecturing me about itchiness and poison ivy isn't helpful.” 

“Doctor, are you sick.” 

“Timelords don't get sick.” 

“You sure?” She asks raising her eyebrows. “Can we go to the medbay to check?” 

“Absolutely not, I'm perfectly fine Clara.” Clara resumes her post as watchdog and sits back in the inviting leather chair leaving him to it but watching his every move like a hawk. He seems a little slower and like every exertion leaves him more tired. Eventually he sniffles and Clara is straight up by his side. 

“Right, medbay now,” she says getting a hum of approval from the TARDIS. 

“Clara…” he protests. 

“Doctor, you're ill.” 

“Clara,” he says weakly, his eyes glazing over as he starts to sway. She only just catches him as he falls, his slender figure is heavier than she expected. 

“Idiot,” she mumbles cradling him. He's burning up, a gleam of sweat on his furrowed brow. Medbay now, Clara thinks. She can't pick him up he's too heavy and she can't drag him because there might be actual damage to him. She'll have to wake him up. “Doctor,” she says lightly tapping his cheeks to wake him. After a while she decides to be more violent and slaps him hard across the jaw leaving a red handprint on his face. His eyes snap open and he looks at her sitting up. 

“What the hell…” he says looking at her and itching the mark. She leads him to the medbay ignoring his protests and scans him. 

“See, ill,” Clara says knowing she's won. “Some illness thing from the planet we were on. Doctor, what will this do to you?” 

“Hmm?” The Doctor asks massaging his temples with his eyes tightly closed. Clara sits on the stretcher next to him and feels his forehead. 

“What's your normal temperature supposed to be?” Clara asks worriedly pulling out the sonic sunglasses and placing them on him. 

“Fifteen degrees,” he replies with his words slurring. She puts the sunglasses on her face and reads his temperature, twenty six degrees celsius. Clara tries to keep the panic internalised, she doesn't want him to get stressed out. 

“Doctor, you're really burning up. Twenty six degrees is not good. What's the danger zone? I need to know how to help you.” 

“I don't need help, it'll be fine I just need to sleep for a bit.” 

“I am trying to help you you idiot! You will bloody well do everything I tell you to when I tell you to or I will smack you into your next face, do you understand!?” Clara yells at the Doctor. His eyes are wide with shock and fear as he stares at his companion. After a few moments silence he nods and she lets out a breath she was holding. Right, that's been cleared up. “So, you need to drink, what do you want?” 

“Uh, can I have a Fanta please?” The Doctor asks as politely as he can determined not to upset her. Clara helps him up onto his shaky feet and towards the kitchen. Thankfully, the TARDIS has moved it to just opposite the medbay, a gesture which Clara is incredibly thankful for. The Doctor plops down on the nearest chair and wipes sweat from his forehead onto his beloved woollen coat. Clara returns to him a few moments later with a large glass of Fanta bubbling away in front of him. 

“Drink it,” Clara commands a feeling of victory when she watches him reluctantly pick up the glass with shaky hands and empty it's contents. “Good Doctor. Come on you daft old man, bed.” 

“Yes boss,” he replies smirking. He stands up slowly and heads down the corridor when Clara stops him. 

“Where are you going?” She asks. 

“Bed like you said,” he replies. 

“No you're not, not to yours anyway. For all we know, the contaminant is in the TARDIS. We're going back to mine and you can have my bed.” The Doctor bites the inside of his cheek and nods itching at his face. He heads slowly back to the console room and flies them back to Clara's dinky London flat, an exertion that has cost him a lot of strength. Clara watches as he persistently scratches at parts of himself with worry flooding her mind, what will this thing do to him?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to escalate a little...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, 
> 
> As promised, another chapter is here! I’ve got a few more that are nearly ready. Again, all mistakes are my own. Things are escalating for the Doctor and Clara, it might not end well. 
> 
> Enjoy...

After some effort and lots of whining, the Doctor is lying face down on Clara's bed having basically collapsed when he got out of the TARDIS. Clara rolls her eyes as she pulls off his boots and puts them neatly with all her shoes. She manages to take his coat and shirt off leaving him in his white undershirt and trousers, probably uncomfortable but at least dressed a bit. 

Gently, the Doctor is rolled onto his back and she lifts his undershirt up with tender fingers. Clara can see small red spots appearing on his chest. Not good. They don't seem to be spreading, just in small clusters all over his body, so that's why he was itchy. Clara heads into the TARDIS and gets him a pair of pyjama bottoms from the wardrobe deciding that his trousers can be contaminated. The TARDIS blue faux tartan material makes her smile as she pulls his trousers off, mentally apologising to him for what she's doing and vowing never to do it again while sniggering at his question mark boxers. 

Yet another struggle later, Clara has the Doctor under the duvet of her bed with a glass of Fanta on the bedside table, he is so much heavier than his thin frame suggests. Clara sits on the edge of the bed holding his hands in hers. His skin is cold but not as cold as normal which is slightly worrying. 

“Clara?” He asks looking up at her. When did he wake up she thinks to herself. 

“Are you hungry?” She asks looking back into his gaunt face. 

“I haven't eaten all day.” 

“Moron. Do you want some soup or something? I find nacho chips help when I'm ill.” 

“Okay, I'll try that.” 

“Do you want chicken and noodle or tomato soup?” 

“Tomato please.” 

Clara kisses his burning forehead and pushes his hair off it before heading to the kitchen and making him some snacks. Well at least he's not quite as slurry as before. 

Ten minutes later Clara goes back into the bedroom finding the Doctor with his shirt off scratching ferociously at his cheek and back. 

“Doctor!” She yells placing the tray on the dressing table and pulling his hands off himself. There are scratches in his cheek and back trickling blood down him. She wipes his face with a tissue and pins his hands beneath her knees dabbing at the cuts. “What are you doing?” 

“It feels like my skin is burning,” he replies trying to free his hands unsuccessfully. Clara quickly leaves the room and returns seconds later with a roll of duct tape and a pair of thick gloves. She pushes the gloves onto his hands and tapes them to his wrists to stop him scratching. He moans and lays back on the bed in a huff. 

“What?” She demands with her arms folded. 

“It hurts. Please, just let me itch it for a moment,” he begs. Clara holds back a sob and shakes her head bringing the tray over and putting it beside him on the bed. He sits up and nibbles the edge of a nacho chip before making a face and putting it down. “Not hungry.” 

“You need to eat Doctor.” She watches as his eyes screw shut and he covers his head with his arms. It feels like his head is going to explode, there's a horrible ringing in his ears and the light is burning his retinas. Clara stares at him unsure of what he's doing. 

“My head hurts so much. Please, turn the lights off!” He begs again. Clara hurries over to the light and switches it off. He seems to relax a bit but his head still hurts like hell. Clara leaves the room in search of pain medication finding only a bottle of aspirin and an antihistamine which is useless. She takes out two aspirin and hands them to the Doctor with the Fanta. 

“Doctor take these, it'll help,” she says putting the pills in his mouth. He takes a huge gulp of fizzy orange liquid and thanks her before laying back on the soft pillows. “How are you other than that?” 

“I'm cold. I'm tired. I want to eat but can't seem to actually bring myself to. I feel a little nauseous but that's probably dehydration.” 

“You're not cold, you need to eat, I'll get you a bucket just in case, drink that Fanta while I'm gone okay?” 

“Yes Ma'am.” 

Clara smiles and gets the bucket from the cupboard in the living room planting it on the floor next to the bed. The Doctor has drunk all of the Fanta and is now trying to eat soup. Clara decides to leave him alone and get on with marking, those essays won't grade themselves. 

Half an hour later she goes to check on the Doctor. Most of the food she left him is gone and so is the refill of Fanta, thankfully. She moves the tray away and sits on the bed next to him placing a hand on his forehead. It's still burning, if not hotter than before. The Doctor is shivering on the bed under the covers, his teeth chattering. Clara takes his temperature and nearly does a double take. Thirty eight degrees, that's over double what's normal. Taking the tray away with her, she goes to the kitchen and gets a bowl filled with ice and cold water with a cloth before returning to her patient. She submerges the cloth in the water, squeezes the excess off and puts it on his forehead removing the duvets off him and the gloves. 

“Doctor, can you hear me?” She asks putting the cloth on his chest letting it soak his t shirt. 

“Clara,” he whispers with chattering teeth. “I need to use the bathroom.” Clara helps him to his feet and leads him to the bathroom but he insists on not requiring her company to use the bathroom. It's not like he's been doing it fine on his own for thousands of years. Clara’s not too bothered, she’d rather not have to wipe his arse for him. 

He emerges a short while later with Clara helping him cross them flat back to her bedroom. His movements are ridiculously slow and his limbs feel too heavy like they’re made of lead. They aren't cooperating with his brain which is useless, he hates being ill. With a sharp intake of breath and a groan, the Doctor falls to his knees clutching at his stomach.

“Clara get the bucket.” Clara rushes to grab the bucket and only just manages to get it in front of him in time as the Doctor spews his guts up. All the food and liquid he'd had is no longer in him but he continues retching bile as Clara rubs circles on his back in a soothing way. After a few minutes, the Doctor stops and leans against the wall panting, wiping his mouth on his arm, violently shaking again. 

“What pills did you give me?” He asks looking up at Clara. 

“Aspirin, they work best for severe headaches.” 

“Clara aspirin is poisonous.” Clara hears his words over and over in her head each time feeling weak at the knees. She sits next to the Doctor with tears rolling down her face, instead of helping she poisoned him. 

“Doctor I'm so sorry! I… I didn't know!” She sobs into his shoulder. He comforts her as best as the new agonising pain everywhere in his body will let him. 

“It's okay, I shouldn't have assumed you knew,” he whispers. Talking hurts and his throat is already burning he doesn't want to make it worse. He has to let go of Clara to throw up again, thankfully getting it into the bucket. Only bile comes up but he keeps retching. Clara seems to snap out of it and help him back to bed with quite a lot of effort when he's done. 

“Doctor, you're too hot to be laying under the covers,” she says. Pulling the duvet off the bed completely. He whimpers and rolls into the foetal position shaking and groaning. 

“No, no, too cold. Very bitey. Too cold. Freezing, need warm,” he whimpers. Clara rolls him onto his back and keeps putting the cold cloth on him to cool him down. Thinking quickly, Clara puts a huge towel over him and heads to the freezer pulling every bag of peas, chips and whatever she can find putting them on the Doctor. He shrieks every time clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, the searing pain of the ice being put on him is so unbearable he inevitably passes out. 

“Doctor I know and I'm sorry but you're too hot,” Clara keeps saying kind of glad he passed out. At least now she won't have to hear him shrieking in pain and she supposes at least he's resting, sort of. Clara curls up next to her friend and strokes his sweat damp hair off his face, it’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s so much more to come! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Let me know if you have any suggestions or things to include, I love getting new ideas.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit hotter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, 
> 
> Next chapter is here! Sorry it took a bit longer, I’ve had some exams to do. 
> 
> Things are getting a bit worse for Clara, will she have it all under control? 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, thank you so much for reading and supporting, it means a lot. 
> 
> Enjoy...

An hour or two later, Clara wakes from her doze to check on the Doctor. Her frozens have almost completely defrosted and he looks even worse. Putting on the sonic sunglasses, Clara takes his temperature and openly sobs, forty five degrees celsius. Oh god, what can she do? Maybe an ice bath? Clara pulls his semi conscious form out of bed and towards the bathroom shedding his clothes on the way leaving him in his boxers, putting him into her bathtub. She runs cold water into it and tries to ignore his whimpers and pleas to make it stop. 

“I can't Doctor, it will stop I promise,” she coos trying to be as supportive as possible. This is not good, she cannot deal with this by herself and he's dying. She can't call an ambulance because of the two hearts, she can't take him to the hospital because of the two hearts, what can she do?

Clara covers the Doctor in cold water and rubbing his skin to bring the out. The Doctor screams at her touch and starts coughing. “Doctor, I know just please stay still.”

Clara sits the Doctor up and leaning him forward in a vain attempt to ease his breathing between coughing fits. 

“Hey, take it easy, try nice deep breaths. I’ve got you,” she whispers sobbing openly. He stops coughing but his body convulses in her arms as he tries to breathe, clearly struggling. “Stay with me Doctor!” 

Clara shakes him as he struggles, fighting for his life. His breathing eases slightly but it still sounds painful. Placing the sonic sunglasses on her face, she scans his temperature again. Forty one degrees, a noticeable change which means she’s doing something right. “Doctor?” 

“Stop,” he whimpers helplessly between raspy breaths. Clara can feel the warmth emitting from his body and keeps pouring the cold water over him. 

After a long hour or so, his fever has dropped to thirty five much to Clara’s relief. She is exhausted and really needs a good sleep but her priority is of course, her friend. He’s saved her life so many times and now it’s time that she saved him. 

Draining the bathtub, she grabs some thick towels and starts drying him off, careful of his hypersensitivity. He looks up at her with red rimmed eyes gazing at her with the same level of exhaustion that she feels. 

“Doing that thing with the eyes,” he grumbles with a sad smile. Clara beams back at him, at least he’s making his usual type of comments again now. 

“They don’t inflate Doctor,” she chuckles back at him drying his hair. The silver curls poof back to life and sit messily atop his head. He looks more like himself now with his hair back to its normal wildness. “You scared me.” 

“M’sorry,” he whimpers staring at his large feet. Clara gently rests a hand on his shoulder and smiles. 

“Not your fault,” she says solemnly. “Would you like to go back to bed?” 

“Please, light hurts.” 

With lots of very complicated acrobatic manoeuvres, Clara has the Doctor back in the bedroom while she gets him some fresh underpants and a clean t shirt from the Tardis. Thankfully, the old girl is being helpful, perhaps sensing her thief’s ill health and taking her side.

“I’m back with some fresh clothes for you,” Clara announces quietly shutting the TARDIS door behind her. “The old girl is actually being helpful for a change.” 

“Always helpful Clara,” he mutters as he sits up slowly to dress himself. The smooth cotton feels nice on his skin and it doesn’t feel like he’s going to literally spontaneously combust anymore. “Thank you.” 

“You’re sick, being cared for is the job description that comes with it.” Clara gets rid of any crinkles in the duvet and drapes it over his legs to keep his feet warm, it’s probably more comfortable right? “You Okay in here while I kip on the sofa?” 

“Sleep here, I’ll go to the TARDIS.” 

“Now way mister,” Clara protests. “You’re sick and you’ll only make the TARDIS grumpy by refusing to take care of yourself. Stay here, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” 

“Your bed, you sleep here.” The Doctor shoots her a piercing glare and his best attack eyebrows. Even when he’s ill it’s still menacing. 

“Fine,” she gives in flapping her hands dramatically. “But you’d better not make me ill.” 

“Not contagious to humans Clara,” he whispers with his throat feeling like it’s been lined with sandpaper. 

“Whatever, budge up.” Clara climbs into the bed under the duvet with the Doctor and lays on her side away from him flicking the tiny lamp off. The Doctor rolls onto his side facing the other way and pulls the duvet up under his chin to keep warm. “No, Doctor you’re too hot. You don’t need the duvet.” 

“Bitey Clara.” 

“Yes bitey Clara. It’s three in the morning and I need to sleep so shut up and go to sleep,” she snaps a little more aggressively than intended. The Doctor lets out a chuckle that turns into a coughing fit much to Clara’s dismay. Eventually he calms down and they drift off into a deep sleep. 

An hour or so later, Clara is woken by the sound of the Doctor whimpering in his sleep. Is he having a nightmare? Is he in pain? 

“Doctor?” She asks groggily getting no response. She rolls closer to the Doctor and cuddles him from behind feeling his violent shaking as his muscles contract.He is at least cold to the touch now, much more normal so he must be on the mend thanks to his advanced healing capabilities. “You okay?” 

She rests her little hand on his chest feeling the rhythm of his dual heartbeat beneath her fingers. Noticeably quicker but strong beats thrum in his chest with painful sounding breaths escaping his lips. Clara rests her head against his shoulder and wraps her other arm around his waist in addition to entangling her legs with his ridiculously long ones. 

“Please get better soon Doctor,” she whispers placing a tender kiss on the back of his neck underneath the darker silver curls at the back of his head. Every breath he takes worries her until exhaustion finally takes over and she falls asleep protecting her Doctor from harm. He may be on the mend but he’s not out of the woods yet…


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from the events of last night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, 
> 
> Firstly, I’d like to apologise for how long it’s taken me to upload another chapter. This is because real life decided to go about as wrong as it could and I just didn’t feel like writing. Alas, I found motivation and here we are at Chapter 4 but I am sorry it wasn’t up sooner and that it’s a bit shorter. 
> 
> Also, TWICE UPON A TIME HAS LITERALLY OBLITERATED MY SOUL AND I WILL NEVER GET OVER IT! I love Peter too much and that episode makes me cry just thinking about it. 
> 
> Anyway, here’s Chapter 4 and I hope to upload another few over the coming days slash week. 
> 
> Enjoy...

Clara is woken pleasantly many hours later by the sunlight trickling through the gap in the curtain. Golden light illuminated the bedroom and Clara wakes a little more smiling at the sight before her. 

The Doctor is out cold with his arms cuddled up to his chin all curled up in a protective ball. His hair glistens in the light and Clara has an urge to stroke it off his face but she doesn’t want to wake him. 

Eventually, the pins and needles in her arms from holding him all night are unbearable and Clara removes herself off the bed placing a quick kiss to her friends forehead moving a stray curl away before going to make a cup of coffee. Caffeine seems like a good idea and if today is going to be anything like last night then she will most certainly need her strength and energy. 

Memories of the Doctor screaming in pain flood back into her mind as a tear creates a path down her cheek. Her best friend was suffering and she was so helpless. If that happens again then she will need help, she can’t watch that again, never again. The sound of water boiling snaps Clara out of it as she finishes making her coffee and heading back to the bedroom to inspect the fallout from last night. 

The Doctor is still laying on his side facing the window bathing in the sunlight. It makes him look so peaceful from afar. Clara leans against the doorframe with her cup of coffee and smiles. The Doctor looks at peace with the universe, and it melts her into a million little pieces. 

Deciding to move closer, Clara places her mug down on the bedside table and kneels beside the bed staring closer at the Doctor. Up close, he looks the total opposite. All image of tranquility is gone, he looks tense, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown upon his face. Why must the universe make him suffer, she thinks to herself. His red rimmed eyes and clammy skin only upset Clara more, he’s still not better. 

“Doctor,” she whispers resting a hand on his upper arm. His temperature has dropped significantly from last night but he seems to be in pain and she can’t work out why. “I’m going to roll you over so that I can take a better look at you okay?” 

He doesn’t make a sound or move at all much to Clara’s disappointment. As gently as she can, Clara uncurls his protective ball made out of his own ridiculously long limbs and rolls him onto his back. There, that’s better. 

“What am I going to do with you eh?” She giggles climbing back onto the bed. Some more sleep wouldn’t hurt and he seems to be okay for now, it’ll be fine. Clara rests her head against his chest and wraps her arms around him pulling him into a tight embrace before kissing his chin. 

“Get better soon you daft old man,” she murmurs. Shortly after, exhaustion takes over and Clara falls back into her slumber protecting her friend once again. 

Images of the last adventure they went on flash in Clara’s mind. There’s a spaceship, some killer robots and one big bomb, exactly the sort of thing she loves. The Doctor runs down the corridor gripping onto her hand and dragging her along behind him as lasers are fired. 

“Doctor! They’re shooting at us!” She yells running even faster. 

“Well yes that’s quite the talent you’ve got for stating the obvious,” he yells back without breaking stride as they run. They both love the running, the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline. It’s wonderful and toxic. It’s poisoning them. Too much of any good thing turns it into a bad one. The same applies to their adventures and they know it. One day, one of them will get seriously hurt and it will destroy the other. 

“Doctor, watch out!” Too late, a laser shot right through the Doctor’s chest lighting him up like a Christmas tree. He screams and falls to the ground in a big heap unmoving. 

“DOCTOR!” Clara yells rushing to his aid and rolling him onto his back. There’s a wound where the laser hit him all burnt and black. Oh god no! He’s got to be okay. Clara takes his pulse resting her other hand on his chest. But there is no thrumming or breathing. His chest is not moving, his hearts not beating, his eyes wide with fright yet glazed over. 

“NO!” Clara yells waking herself up. She sits bolt upright with her hands shaking. That didn’t happen, not to him. Just a nightmare Clara, she whispers in her head. It’s over, he’s right next to you. 

Eventually she calm down and resumes her position on his chest feeling his hearts beat beneath her head. Definitely alive. But somethings not quite right. Clara sits up and rests her hand on his chest feeling it rise and fall. The Doctor isn’t breathing properly, it’s more of a gasp or a wheeze and he doesn’t seem to be getting enough air. She watches his chest rise and fall shallowly and far too quickly for several minutes paralysed with fear. He not breathing properly. 

Deciding there is nothing more she can do without help, Clara picks up her phone and dials UNIT. Kate and Osgood have to know what to do or else the Doctor will die...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The UNIT cavalry arrives and try to work out what's going on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, 
> 
> I'm really sorry that it's been so long but real life did that irritating thing of getting in the way. Anyway, we're here now and UNIT have arrived. I can't wait to get my hands on the Series 9 soundtrack, I'm so excited to finally get it. 
> 
> I have to admit that I am not a medical Doctor so I have no actual idea what half the stuff I probably need to explain is so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies. Plus it is just fiction so I suppose I could make it up anyway. 
> 
> As always, any mistakes are my own and I do apologize. Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Also sorry it's shorter again but it seemed a good place to end the chapter.

Clara paces around her bedroom keeping a sharp eye on the Doctor whenever his breath so much as hitches and a firm grip on her phone. Kate was very brief when she explained what to do but then again she never was one for particularly long conversations. All she needed to know was a few basics and if the TARDIS was nearby. That’s pretty simple. The TARDIS hasn’t moved from the living room when Clara landed her and she can guess that the machine wouldn’t move the Doctor was better anyway.

She looks back at the Doctor. He looks so… small. Not literally, the man is a grey haired stick insect that’s almost a foot taller than her but he’s not the force of nature to be reckoned with that he normally is. Plus the only thing covering him are his ridiculous boxers. What possesses the man to go around in those? But then again, he does have some weird quirks. It suddenly occurs to Clara that she really shouldn’t be looking at him like this. If he were conscious and himself, he would literally regenerate from sheer embarrassment. Maybe she should put some clothes on him. She could do that. Put him in a t shirt and pair of pyjama bottoms and he’d look decent. But he’s far too hot. Layers aren’t going to help him get better. His dignity is really important to him though. Well he’ll just have to sulk when he’s better then. Clara puts an extra pillow behind his head to try and make him more comfortable before resuming her pacing to expel the nervous energy.

Not half an hour later there’s knocking heard at Clara’s door. She hurries over to let her visitors in and doesn’t even bother with the pleasantries there are far more important things going on than having a catch up. Osgood follows Kate with a tablet and supply bag staying close enough for Kate to feel the other woman’s breath on her neck. Clara leads them to the Doctor, still completely unconscious in bed. To be honest, she was concerned that half of UNIT would show up in her flat which wouldn’t have helped anyone, luckily she can deal with Kate and Osgood. 

“I’m going to need some details Clara,” Kate says taking charge. Clara explains everything from their adventure to his itching and then the fever and aspirin to the current minute in as much detail as she can watching Osgood take notes on the tablet. Once she’s finished, Kate rubs the back of her neck and sighs.

“Okay,” Kate sighs staring at the man in front of her. Clara has covered his lower half with a thin blanket to save him some embarrassment. “Osgood, how’s he looking?”  
“Vital signs aren’t great. It seems like he picked up something from wherever you were which is like a severe flu for us. But I’m not entirely sure why he seems to be struggling to breathe,” she explains assessing him. “We should probably get him into the TARDIS. At least if he’s in there we know we have any and all medical equipment that could ever be needed.” 

“Good plan,” Kate exclaims turning to Clara. “Can we wake him up?”

“I don’t know. Doctor?” Clara asks shaking his shoulder slightly. He doesn’t move an inch. “Doctor!” The Doctor groans and pulls the duvet over himself and curls back up into his protective ball. 

“Clara,” he murmurs softly. Clara rests her hand on his shoulder and ruffles his hair. “Leave me to sleep.” 

“Kate and Osgood are here to help you get better,” she explains. He groans and curls up even tighter. 

“Doctor, we need you to go to the medbay in the TARDIS,” Osgood says moving slightly closer. 

“No, moving hurts.”

“Will you do it for me?” Clara asks pressing a soft kiss to his aching skull. The Doctor sighs which results in a painful coughing fit. There’s really no way that he’s getting out of this now. As Clara helps him sit up, the whole room goes all dark and wobbly making him dizzy. 

“Bucket,” he whimpers. Kate spins and finds an empty bucket just by the door, picks it up and shoves it in front of the Doctor just in time. Clara winces on his behalf, she’s never been one for sick. She’s surprised he has anything to throw up, his stomach must be completely empty. Osgood just stands there awkwardly as the timelord retches, it seems to go on forever before he falls limp against Clara’s supporting arm around his shoulders. 

“Better?” She asks getting a weak nod in response. His chest is heaving from the exertion and he can’t get the air he needs. Kate reaches into Osgood’s bag and pulls out a stethoscope before listening to the Doctor’s wheezing. 

“We need to get him out of here,” Kate announces. This is now serious and she doesn’t see any other alternative. “I need to make a phone call, can you get him into the TARDIS?” Clara looks at Osgood and back at the Doctor before nodding. Kate leaves the room and Osgood joins Clara’s side.  
“Okay, ready Doctor?” Clara asks. 

“Moving hurts,” he whimpers rubbing his chest to try and alleviate some of the pain. 

“I know but it’ll be quick,” Clara clarifies patting him on the back lightly. They move to the edge of the bed and the Doctor unelegantly swings his legs onto the floor to lever himself up. Osgood does her best to stifle her laugh when she catches a glimpse of his underwear with little success. He really does wear questionmark underpants. Clara gives her the ‘I know’ look and Osgood pulls the Doctor’s arm over her shoulder. Clara does the same and they now have him upright. He starts swaying slightly but manages to stay upright. He notices that breathing is much more uncomfortable standing up than it is laying down for some reason. “Right, let’s take this one step at a time.” 

After lots of effort and some cursing, the three of them have managed to get into the medbay on the TARDIS. Osgood gets to work tapping away at her tablet and programming it to the TARDIS.

“You were right, he is so much heavier than I thought,” she announces stretching her arm. Clara stuffs a pillow behind the Doctor’s head and covers him as much as a thin blanket will allow to give him some privacy even though his secret is out. The Doctor is barely conscious after their little walk, it’s taken a much larger toll on him than she thought.  
“Doctor?” Clara asks shaking him slightly to keep him awake. He starts coughing again, this time more violently. Clara helps him sit up to try and ease his already shaky breathing as the coughing makes his whole body convulse. Most worryingly, the Doctor can’t breathe when the coughing stops. It’s like he’s trying to get air that’s just not going into his lungs. 

“What do we do?” Clara yells trying to help him as best as she can. The others are the people who should be able to help otherwise Clara wouldn’t have called them. Kate lurches towards the cupboards looking for something to help. She pulls out an oxygen mask and places it on the Doctor’s face while throwing a scanner at Osgood. 

“Clara, please step back. I’m going to scan him with this thing and should get the display on the tablet,” Osgood says stepping forwards with the odd metal object in her hand. Clara steps back and watches Osgood scan him head to toe several times. The beeping of the device is incredibly irritating but at least they can see what’s wrong with him. After a few moments, there is a display on the tablet that Osgood can analyse.

“What does it say?” Kate asks heading to her most trusted friend. Osgood’s eyes widen as she takes in all the data.

“There’s no infection just poison. The aspirin poisoning we knew about and another organic based compound that shouldn’t be there,” she announces reading the results and looking at the red mark on the Doctor’s wrist from the scratching. 

“So it’s not like a space cancer or anything?” Kate asks sitting on a nearby chair. Clara continues stroking the Doctor’s hair and holding his hand.

“No, it’s a like a poison from that plant. I don’t know how to reverse the effects but we don’t have much time.”

“What do you mean?” Clara snaps staring at the other women. How can he be dying?

“The poison is shutting down his organs but the aspirin is actually what’s causing the most damage at the moment. It’s causing a reaction in his body that in turn causes the tissue around his lungs to basically swell. From what I can see,” Osgood says calmly showing the tablet to the others highlighting the red areas where the poison is operating. “The red bits are the areas of swelling. It seems his entire respiratory system is swollen which is why he can’t breathe. it’s like a severe allergic reaction if you had a bit allergy only you know, more serious. I’m not sure how he’s lasted this long with that much swelling.” 

“I shouldn’t have given him that,” Clara sobs stroking the Doctor’s hair off his face. 

“You couldn’t have known Clara,” Kate says comforting her friend. Logically there is no way Clara could’ve known because why would it ever come up in conversation? 

“Good news,” Osgood smiles. “We can fix the aspirin poisoning but it’s going to take a while for the swelling to go down. He’s fighting off two different contaminants.” 

“How do we do that?” Kate inquires. The TARDIS hums and Clara barely notices at first. Wait a minute, the TARDIS is telling her what to do. Clara leaps up from the Doctor’s side and starts rumaging through the cupboard the TARDIS has kindly illuminated with a green glow pulling out a more technologically advanced IV pole with a bag of blue liquid attached and ready to be used. 

“This. The TARDIS just showed us what we need to fix it. We give him this and he can breathe yeah?” She fires at Osgood who reads the label on the bag.  
“This is the antidote,” she announces getting to work at fitting the IV into the Doctor’s arm. “We need to get that in him as fast as possible.” Osgood makes sure that everything is ready and watches the machine force the antidote into the timelord’s body. 

“Now what?” Kate asks. 

“We wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter out soon!


End file.
